The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020) Rick Jones (ebook reader play store txt) 📖

a Jew, and one who did these people no harm. Yet here I sit with an incendiary vest wrapped around me.”

Manning waved him off dismissively.

There was the snigger of bolts being pulled back in the door’s locking mechanism. And then the door opened wide. Zamir entered the room with Talib close behind, giving everyone a cursory exam until his eyes finally locked onto Manning. Pointing his finger at the CEO, Zamir shouted something in Arabic that galvanized Talib to respond accordingly. Manning, who placed his hands together in an attitude of prayer and started to beg, was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and hoisted roughly to his feet by Talib.

“Oh God, please. I can pay you money. Lots of money. More than you can imagine.”

Talib simply shoved the man towards the doorway, the CEO first stumbling a moment before catching his stride.

“Pleeeaaase . . .”

Both Talib and Zamir shouted at Manning in Arabic, with their harsh tones universal. It was an order to Manning to ‘shut up and move along.’

Once the CEO of BattleTech Oil was removed from the room and the door locked, that left a woman who led a corporation in China, though she remained quiet throughout the ordeal, along with the judge and the cardinal of the Vatican.

Cardinal Favino looked ceilingward while his Adam’s apple bobbed as though trying to swallow enough saliva to wet his parched throat. The Asian woman continued to weep softly. The judge, however, sat as a witness to all of this that had unfolded around him, then wondered when they would finally come for him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Vienna, Austria

“Johnathan Manning,” Mustafa said. He was still looking over the city of Vienna when Manning was forced to his knees along the edge of the broken balcony. “A self-made millionaire who is president and CEO of BattleTech Oil. You started from almost nothing to become the king of your own mountain.”

“Then you know me and what I can do for you.”

“Like the man before you, I had gleaned your history from the Internet. Unlike him, you appear to be full of yourself.” This was the first time Mustafa looked at Manning, their eyes connecting. “With all that money,” he added calmly, “I bet you live inside a nice house, probably a mansion, with every possible luxury and amenity, when people are starving all around you.”

“All right. Look, you can name whatever price you want. Any amount. I’ll see that it goes into an account of your choosing immediately, as long as you release me.”

“What about the others?” Mustafa directed the point of his jambiya towards the hostage area of the suite.

“To hell with them. They’re not my concern. They can make their own deals.”

“And there you have it,” said Mustafa. “The character of a man who only thinks of himself.” Mustafa started to slap the blunt side of the dagger against his palm. “You think you’re the only one to offer me such riches? The man before you, a CEO like yourself, also made the same offer. He offered me riches beyond my imagination, enough that I should never want for anything ever again.” The lead terrorist started to move in circles. “And my answer to him, Mr. Manning, is the same answer I’m giving you now. You have no value to me outside of serving as an example to others.”

Manning started to sweat, his brow now beading with drops of perspiration. He still held his hands together in prayer. “Please, to whatever account you want. Whatever amount you want. It’ll help with your causes, yes?”

“Mr. Manning, we both know that wherever you send that money, the account will be frozen. Your pleas are falling on deaf ears, believe me.”

“Please, I have a family. I have children.”

Mustafa stopped pacing and looked at Manning with a questioning tilt of his head. “Tell me,” he said, “why do people always say that they have a family as though it makes a difference? It doesn’t. Trust me, they’ll go on without you. In a few years, you’ll be little more than a fading memory and an afterthought.”

“Oh please, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah. I do.”

When panic started to set in and Manning tried to get to his feet, Qusay sent him back to his knees with a hard strike from the butt of his rifle. When Manning struggled to regain his footing for a second time, Qusay hit him hard enough to see internal stars.

That was when Mustafa retrieved his cellphone from the pocket of his war attire, hit nine, then placed the phone to his ear. The phone rang once, twice, three times before Müller finally answered.

“Are you looking up, Müller?” asked Mustafa.

“You don’t have to do this. I told you, we now have everything under control.”

“This is to assure me that everything from here on in stays in control. No more surprises, Müller. If the chopper is not on its way, then you lose. If it’s not here in the timeframe specified, you lose. Do you understand?”

“Look, Mustafa, your demands are being met.”

“Get one thing straight, Müller, I have plenty of bodies up here to toy with. And the flames have no intentions of slowing down, either. Remember, time is not a luxury.”

“Mustafa, listen to me—”

“You’re not the negotiator here. You never were. I say. You do. It’s that simple. I say. You do. There are to be no discussions, no debates and no negotiations. Understand that.” After a beat, he added, “Now look up.”

“Mustafa! You don’t—”

CLICK!

* * *

Müller looked at the phone after the call cut off and never felt so powerless. Ali Mustafa had him by the short hairs, this he knew. Worse, as he could do little more than to look up, he was unable to breathe because he knew the obscenity that was about to unfold before everyone’s eyes.

Then he wondered about the Vatican Knights and where they were. The tenth level? The twentieth? Higher? None of it would matter, however, since Mustafa had